probably at least once a day i have to rush over to dante and wake him up to save him from a nightmare

whenever i go to some schlub’s website and at the bottom it’s like

“you can follow me on [social media network], [social media network], [social media network], and [linkedin profile]”

i always kind of make this noise with my mouth and then say aloud: “why the fuck would i want to do that”

look don’t tell the cops i told you this but i think that maybe i just experienced vertigo for the first time. but then i don’t really know what vertigo feels like. basically what i felt was like in a movie where someone is staring down a long corridor and the floor and walls begin to twist up in a clockwise spiral. it is slow and barely perceptible.

i’m staring at the room here and it is definitely slanted.

uhhhh have i lost my mind

listen: i don’t usually talk about stuff like this. i don’t like doing it. but i feel like i have to go on record and say this before everything else starts saying it a few years from now.

ok: i think shia labeouf is a genius. i think that guy is real cool and i would totally hang out with him. i also think tom hardy is a genius. i think shia labeouf and tom hardy are the most marlon brando-ish dudes in hollywood. they are some of the only interesting actors to me.

and the fact that they both star in ‘LAWLESS,’ which rules by the way, can’t be a coincidence

that’s divine, baby

that movie is

if you haven’t seen it then what the heck are you doing with your life, honestly

(this post was brought to you by someone who has been unemployed for three months / will probably never get laid ever again)

one time my friend referred to me as a “lonely diatribe” and i thought that was great

during my exile from the world i have developed a useful skill (i’m serious)

which is this: i do not let my mind rove! in the past i would recall a shameful memory, or a person’s face or voice, or whatever, even if it was very painful, and i would just sort of hang out and agonize over it inside my head.

well: these things creep up on me you see, i have a lot of time and no one to talk to, and so when they invade my head like smoke beneath a closed door i say (to myself (and sometimes aloud (so lonely))): “nope!” and i make it vanish. it sounds easy but it is very difficult at first.

and see, you really have to teach yourself this sort of thing if you need to be alive to take care of someone or something, which in my case is a 12-pound cat whose food costs $2.85 a can.

hey guys my 24-hour AKIRA KUROSAWA birthday marathon is still going on so if you’d like to come inside this cozy apartment and watch some movies with me you’re going to have to find a ventilation shaft to crawl through or dig your way in with a pickaxe or something because the door is barricaded and my lawyer has told me that i am legally obligated not to remove the refrigerator that is currently blocking the only entrance

that being said: if you can get in, you’re in bro

i will welcome you with open arms, and so on

it is 3:35 a.m. EST and i am sitting here with some shit beer and four tacos i made myself and hey, what can i say, i’m 28 years old and i haven’t looked at myself in the mirror in a week and i forget what babies look like and i don’t know if i’ll ever see flowers or trees again so what the hell else do you want from me

so i know i mentioned that i wanted “another green world” on vinyl but uh . . . if you’re still out shopping for my birthday present (it’s not too late) . . . uh . . . i wouldn’t mind owning the criterion collection blu-ray of KAGEMUSHA either. . . . just throwing it out there ok. . . . bye. . . .

you know what scares me about every religion’s take on paradise is that it always comes across like a timeshare brochure, or like a tri-fold pamphlet for an old folks’ home. i mean they’re selling you eternal rest for your soul! and it all sounds so nice, doesn’t it?

and then you get there and the beach is really an alligator-filled swamp, and there are used condoms between the sheets in your hotel room, and you catch the bellhop jerking off in the coat check, and the guy at the front desk tries to sell you some blow, and the only thing to do in town is an alice in wonderland-themed putt-putt golf course where half of the shit is permanently closed for renovations and there’s a dead body in the parking lot.

what if . . . the universal cosmic creator was really a jerk? like a great big used car salesman who can create matter and oxygen and time and so on? oh mean—holy hell. have you thought about this?

ok last baby picture i promise

that is me in my star uniform

and that is me with pretty much the exact same haircut i have now